The Fox and the Wizard
by lethedrop
Summary: HP x YYH Oneshots in which Youko Kurama finds himself responsible for baby Harry Potter. 7: Expectations: sequel to 6. Severus observes Harry's Sorting. 8: Spirited Away 3: Ie: Getting home and Shiori's reaction.
1. KamiKakushi

Disclaimer: I don't own _Yuu-Yuu Hakusho_ or _Harry Potter,_ and make no tangible profit from this fanwork.

—Kurama is a Japanese fox, somewhat comparable to the Native American trickster spirit Coyote, and also to the Irish Otherworldly apparitions, the _siddhe_. Hence this plot bunny.

_**Kami-Kakushi**_** – Spirited Away**

The horse-faced woman cooed to the flabby toddler in her arms as she strode into the toyshop: an image of indulgent motherhood.

The car she left parked outside was moderately expensive and in good condition; it wasn't worth the effort of locating someone to fence it. The dry-cleaning inside appeared equally upper-middle class; it wasn't worth the effort of carrying five steps.

The worth of a puzzle, on the other hand, was immeasurable. Especially to a bored fox.

The only humans Kurama had seen had been the ones to enter the shop, yet he could sense a human soul remaining in the car—one that he felt fairly confident was embodied, not a spirit.

Sauntering closer, he peeked through the front windshield. A suspiciously lumpy blanket was visible in the backseat, and he moved to a back window for a better view.

The blanket rose and fell as if with breathing. Surely, though, the woman wasn't the sort to leave a child unattended? She'd seemed perfectly entranced by the mewling creature in her arms.

Palming a seed from his hair, Kurama grew a slender vine and picked the lock.

The air inside was ripe with the scents of humans—baby, adult female, and traces of adult male. The baby-smell, however, was too strong to be merely residual.

Then the sound of breathing registered.

A second baby. Was the woman forgetful or criminally negligent?

The blanket twitched and its contents began to whimper. A new scent had appeared: that of a soiled nappy. Kurama took a deep sniff and identified the source as very young, male, and somewhat ill-fed.

Abruptly, the smell of feces and the whimpering both vanished, taking with them the last of Kurama's ennui.

How…delightfully unexpected. And perhaps enlightening, in regard to the dichotomy of the woman's efforts at childcare.

Trained magic users in the West had a distinctive scent; he'd have known if the woman were such a witch. Instead, there was no hint of magic on the woman or in her car apart from the toddler left behind. The wizard-child was the odd one out in the family.

A changeling child, so to speak. One whose guardian was ill-prepared for it. That was understandable; a baby wizard's instinctive magic could be unsettling to an ordinary human, even in this era that prized rationality over witch hunts.

Perhaps especially in this era. At least in times past, ordinary people hadn't been helpless against the Other. They had known that fey and witches existed and that a magical child must be of one or the other.

They had understood that sometimes a child appeared where it didn't belong. Fey would make a trade, stealing a desired human infant and leaving behind someone or something of their own. Witches were human enough to do as they pleased, free to lie or to steal rather than having to bargain with ordinary humans, but otherwise seemed indistinguishable from their non-human counterparts.

Fey, witch or human, however, a child should be with its own kind. Ordinary people had known that by treating a Changeling harshly, they could induce its people to take it back. Fey or witch, it didn't matter—if iron didn't work, other methods might.

Of course, the fey no longer interacted with the human world, and even if a modern human did think to use iron it wouldn't bother a wizard. Or a Japanese fox, for that matter. Yet something in the thought niggled…

Setting the idea aside for a moment, Kurama pasted a friendly smile onto his face and lifted the blanket.

The dark-haired toddler underneath went still, staring at him with solemn green eyes. As its scent had suggested, it was malnourished worse than the other one, and in this case undernourished. Not only underweight, but with dry skin and slightly brittle hair that should have been visible even to human eyes.

A lightning bolt-shaped scar marred the child's forehead, and Kurama traced the roughened skin with his fingertip. It was a curse scar; he could feel the malicious energy bound to both body and spirit. The child's eyes crossed in an effort to see what he was doing, and its little nose wrinkled.

"Who marked you, child? How did you survive? And how in the world did a child so marked by Darkness come to be living with ordinary humans?"

Kurama maintained his comforting smile as curiosity warred with irritation. He couldn't leave the child to ill treatment; that would be irresponsible for an adult member of human society—which he was, technically. Only for the time being, but as part of a Game he took seriously. He couldn't just take the child with him, though. The inconvenience of acquiring forged legal documents aside, that would be rude. Or at least kidnapping, which was also antisocial behavior for humans…unless….

He could compromise and take the child by Changeling rules, as the woman had invited by mistreating her ward. His duty to a youngling of his borrowed species would be fulfilled in spirit, if not in letter, and the rules governing apparition-human interaction in this land would be fulfilled in letter, if not in spirit. He hadn't committed such an interesting heist in a long time.

"Would you like to come with me, little one? I can offer you the wonders of another world…." There was more artistry in using an apparition's classic invitation than in taking someone by force. Besides, baby wizards had an annoying tendency to disappear when they knew the wrong person had them, so this one would have to come willingly.

Kurama soothed the child with a fox's sweet tongue, flowing from descriptions of his friends who would make good aunts and uncles, to Mother's smile, to the ancient magic of _kagura_ dancing, to the soul-healing effects of a proper garden. All the while he ruminated on his options. How to accomplish this smoothly?

The basis of a Changeling trade was equity—something for something. Kurama didn't have a spare child, though, nor would he entrust one to a woman whose two were visibly malnourished.

The toddler, whose stare had never wavered, finally began to return Kurama's smile. Its own expression was shy, but full of the vapid innocence characteristic of baby humans.

Suddenly inspiration hit.

"You were given the care you needed to grow, as is acceptable for a common houseplant." Kurama plucked his new acquisition from the seat and cradled him in one arm. "I shall assume that your caregivers saw no value in the parts of you that need more than a houseplant does to flourish."

Straightening, he winked at his toddler. "What do you think, little one? A nice begonia?" He dropped a _B. semperflorens_ seed into the discarded blanket and nudged it with his power. In seconds, green sprouted and matured into broad leaves and deep pink blossoms, covering the human-scent in the car with that of healthy plant life. With a tiny _snap,_ Kurama anchored the growth so that it wouldn't revert to a seed when he left. His lingering power in the bushy plant would keep it healthy long enough for potting.

The houseplant sat almost saucily in the blanket, a symbol of how with one act Kurama had performed an equivalent exchange by the rules of fey and visiting foxes, accomplished a good deed in accordance with human morals, and acquired a human grandchild for Mother without having had to court a female of said species.

Of course, now he would have to raise the boy.

…Kurama wondered if his usual modus operandi of "see, covet, steal" hadn't been slightly impulsive, in this instance.


	2. Daemon

—Every chapter of this fic will be a oneshot, but some stories will be unrelated and some will be connected to others as sequels or prequels. Some will be cute, some cruel, and some plain bizarre.

—I hadn't even made the connection, last chapter, with the green eyes (I usually picture Shuuichi with ordinary Japanese coloring, as in the manga). Ack, yet another plot bunny for this fic (grin).

Disclaimer: see first chapter

HP Spoilers: the prophecy

—I firmly believe that Kurama, fox that he is, makes a game of playing different roles in different situations. That's why his appearance and personality here are different from what, say, Yuusuke would expect to see.

—_Inari_, in this case, refers to the sushi: sushi rice in an _abura-age_ (fried tofu) pouch. Foxes are said to have a taste for _abura-age_ treats, particularly _inari_ with its association with the deity Inari, whose messengers foxes are said to be.

—Foxes are said to consume spirit energy, not souls, but given Wizarding preconceptions (read: Dementors) I think the misapprehension is understandable.

_**Daemon**_** — Spirit**

CRASH! The door slammed open.

Lily dropped a half-scrubbed plate into the sink and whirled, one hand darting for her wand as the other clutched her distended belly—her most precious burden.

—_the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches—_

"JAMES! YOU WON'T BELIEVE—oh, hello Lily."

"Hello, Lily. Padfoot, kindly remove your overly large tail from the doorway, if you please."

"'Overly large', Moony? And I suppose…"

Sirius and Remus: classmates, Housemates, annoying friends of the annoying boy she sort of liked, and eventually good friends in their own right. Their familiar banter carried a charm to wash away the white roar of panic, and Lily started breathing again. Normalcy slammed back into place with such force that she almost cried.

Discreetly, she tucked her wand back into her robes. "Hello Sirius, Remus. Do come in. Make yourselves at home. Feel free to treat the doors and furniture as roughly as you would your own."

As one the miscreants froze, turning to her with wide eyes. The past eight months had taught them that pregnant witches were among the most terrifying creatures known to wizardkind.

—_born as the seventh month dies—_

"Sorry to barge in on you like this—"

Remus was spared his attempt to soothe her ruffled feathers by James' entrance.

"Sirius! Remus! You're early. Have you had dinner?"

"You wouldn't believe—"

The pleasantries dragged on, and tension began building again under Lily's skin. Why wouldn't they just _go_—and then James was holding her close, tendering a see-you-soon kiss…and goosing her.

"JAMES!" She couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice even as she shoved him away, which was exactly what he'd intended, damn him.

—_Born to those who have thrice defied him_—

Her husband exchanged a long look with Sirius, the latter of whom had "volunteered," following last week's Tea Incident, to cater to the witch's every need during James' night out.

_Take care of her._

_I will. Good luck._

Finally James and Remus were out the door, off for an evening of manly bonding while James took his turn trying to suss what had been painting shadows in his friend's eyes. Remus had been looking so haggard, lately, so drawn….

Sirius cleared his throat and she looked up, straight into his eyes. "Are we really going to do this?"

He'd voiced her own question, but there was only one answer.

"Yes."

"Well then. Shall we?" Sirius offered his arm, every inch the gentleman, and they walked—or in Lily's case, waddled—to the backyard.

They had been in this together since Sirius had mused to Lily how nice it would be if the Black 'family guardian' could be induced to protect the Potters, 'since you're my adoptive family just as much as I'm yours'. The muggle-born had seized the idea of a protective spirit with the fervor of a drowning woman, and drawn Sirius into a gambit neither properly wizarding nor muggle.

—_either must die at the hand of the other_—

It wasn't a household guardian per se. Sirius had spent many a boyhood afternoon perusing accounts of his favorite ancestress, Asterope, the one who brought the spirit into the family. She had been the sole surviving heir for a time, and therefore valued almost as much as if she had been male, but she had rebelled against her arranged marriage and run off. After years of outrageous adventures, she had returned with an inhuman lover that refused to be banished even after she settled into a more becoming lifestyle.

According to the Black library's dry records, poorly preserved scrolls, and diaries cursed to bite or worse, the lover had been a nature spirit 'varied in countenance but ever vulpine in nature', who had hailed from 'the islands of sunrise'—probably Japan.

The spirit, presumably tamed by his love for Asterope Black, was thought to have agreed to protect her descendents in times of danger. There were, however, accounts of various Blacks attempting to evoke him for assistance, much to their detriment. Summoning was illegal for good reason!

Sirius, though, thought there was a little more to the story than a moralistic warning against resisting one's role in the family and trafficking with spirits. For one thing, the lover's description clearly indicated a magical Japanese fox, and those were difficult to classify at best. They could be anything from pests to demons to gods, depending on the fox and on the circumstances.

More disconcerting was that even though the accounts insisted that the heiress's fidelity (once they finally got her married) was never in question, it was odd that the succeeding Black generations had manifested such a high incidence of metamorphmagi and animagi, particularly canids.

Lily agreed with Sirius's conclusions, and bluntly suggested that previous attempts at Summoning had failed more for Black arrogance than anything else. "Just like in muggle fairy stories, good manners and heartfelt respect must be key to dealing with spirits," she had decided.

Reasoning that desperate times called for desperate measures, they had researched treatises on Summoning. Demons, of course, were worth the Kiss, but spirits and sprites were trickier—a carelessly worded law could ban common Summons like House Elves.

In the end, though, legalities hadn't mattered.

—_neither can live while the other survives_—

Lily and Sirius reached the flower garden, where she had buried the potion they would use to draw their pentagram.

The simple array was almost purely a portal. A circle would have been stronger, if it were inscribed with concentric circles and layers of runes, but Lily didn't care about containment. She had never been comfortable with imposing her will on something intelligent enough to speak, be it House Elf or daemon, and reasoned that if one wanted to beg a favor, using force would be counterproductive.

Sirius had only agreed to the pentagram because his ancestors, despite embracing such Dark Arts, had been unable to contain the demon. Any attempt on his part would be as futile as convincing Lily that it was a bad idea to evoke a creature that had, just a few generations ago, eaten his three times great uncle's soul.

He focused on practicing the foreign sounds of the demon's name, "Ku-ra-ma…Ku-ra-ma..."

Lily finished the pentagram by positioning the plate of the _inari_ Sirius had purchased on his way over. She placed a hand on her partner-in-crime's shoulder, her eyes bright. Feverish.

They took adjacent points and began to chant in Latin. _We beg an audience..._

The wind picked up, first, from a breeze that danced in the leaves to forceful gusts that usually heralded a vicious storm, and then the spell tugged at their magic, draining it bit by bit. Time stretched, dilated, and seemed to pass them by.

As sunset painted the sky in deep reds and purples, the pentagram lines began to glow. A ball of pale blue-green, almost white light appeared in the center, rapidly expanding from firefly to will-o'-the-wisp to a huge, multi-tailed fox—

And suddenly a man stood in the pentagram.

Approximately. He was indeed man-shaped, but too perfectly so, with flawless symmetry and coloration. His hair might have been spun silver and his eyes, a cool vulpine gold, reflected Hell rather than anything of the mortal world.

He held the plate of _inari_, sniffing the rolls as a wine connoisseur inspects a bouquet, and proceeded to ignore his Summoners until every bite had been savored.

Finally, he looked at them and waited. _Your move_.

Lily and Sirius shared a glance, drawing strength from each other's presence. They bowed deeply, and Sirius gathered himself.

"We humbly beg your pardon, Lord, for any error in our comportment. We lack training and experience, but mean no disrespect," he paused in an uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty.

"I will know your intent." The fox's voice was as seductive as the rest of him, smooth and deep and light. "Continue."

Sirius gulped. "My…family records spoke of a Power…who, er, favored a lady of our line…."

"Ah, Asterope." The fond, nostalgic smile that touched his eyes almost gave an illusion of humanity. "But she no longer walks this earth," his face stilled again, "and I dislike being imposed upon frivolously. Did your family also record what I did to the fools who bored me with petty demands?"

Shaking slightly, Lily took a breath to speak, ignoring Sirius's wild-eyed Look. "We mean no offense, and know that what seems important to us may seem trivial to one such as yourself…" the fox quirked an eyebrow, _such as myself?_ but fortunately seemed amused by the impudent double meaning.

Lily had a moment of disorientation—_We summoned a demon and I'm speaking to it…him_—before collecting herself.

"But as a mother I felt driven to seek your aid." She laid out the whole story, carefully emphasizing the familial connection Sirius felt to his godson-to-be and the surety of the child's peril.

When she was finished she realized that the fox, inexplicably, had begun to smile. It was warm and gentle and sent shivers down her spine.

"The boy's connection to me is tenuous…but real; and your desperation is strong. I will help you."

"Thank you!" Lily's trepidation was washed away by the surge of relief. Beside her, Sirius was pale. He had an awful expression, as if he had swallowed something foul, but he kept his peace.

The fox's sweet and terrifying smile welcomed her, now, and she bound herself to him with her word. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect my son."

"As you will." The pentagram shattered and the fox glowed that blue-green tinged silver, flickering, melting, dissipating into the air.

His voice echoed in her heart. "You know your people's lore…the cost of a loved one's life."

She knew.

Fairy stories taught a human's place in the world. A clever person with a pure and humble heart might be able to get what she wanted, but no mortal could win against magical beings without help. She had achieved Kurama's help against the wicked wizard, but had no one to intervene with the fox.

Kurama would take advantage of what fairy stories explained were the roots of power: love and blood.

Blood for blood.

—_Born as the seventh month dies_—


	3. The Spider and the Fly

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

—youkai: demon, spirit, apparition, fey

—It may help to keep in mind that in Yuu-Yuu-Hakusho, the Spirit World (Reikai「霊界」; Buddhist Realm of the Dead; Hades) has perverted the natural order of things in favor of their human constituency: they've erected a barrier to keep the strongest youkai from crossing from their own world into the human one.

—_Ki_ (Chinese _ch'i, qi_) 「気」does not translate. The character conjures images of steam and vitality, and the usage ranges from _tenki_, "heaven" and "ki", meaning "weather"; to _youki_, "spirit, demon, apparition" and "ki", meaning "demon energy" or "demon magic". In the context of this story, "aura", "magic", and "spirit" are the closest Western concepts.

**The Spider to the Fly**

_Kurama opened his eyes a touch wider and put a shade more admiration in his voice. "I work in a Japanese corporation," he stated truthfully. "Does not your company import your drill bits?" He'd done his research. They imported bits from China and casings from Mexico, and appeased British interest groups by having the drills assembled locally._

_The Walrus preened, swelling in a manner that suggested that were he not apple-shaped, he would be thrusting out his chest. "You were right to come to me, lad, I know all about this business. Why, just the other day I…"_

_Kurama nodded and made encouraging interjections in all the right places as Vernon Dursley, intent on a deal, made his clumsy attempt to reel in the "naïve young Japanese salesman". The Walrus didn't need to know that Shuuichi Minamino was actually on vacation from his stepfather's barely national company; he merely needed incentive to invite him into his home._

The pub experience was no doubt a forewarning, Kurama thought as he eyed his hosts' immaculate sitting room. "'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly, ''Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy….'"

"Pardon me?" Petunia Dursley turned to him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

Flustered, she bid him sit and hastened to check on dinner. The Walrus engaged him in small talk, and Walrus, Jr. slouched like a bored ornament. There were no signs of Kurama's objective, even in the family photos.

"_Kurama! There you are." _

_The fox quit his perusal of Spirit World records and smiled down to his employer. "Hello. How are you? Lovely weather we're having, isn't it."_

_He could hear Koenma gritting his teeth. "Hello Kurama. I'm fine, thank you. And yourself?"_

"_Quite well, thank you." He relented. "What brings you all the way over here?"_

"_That's my line," the young god muttered. _

_He then swallowed, as if he didn't already have Kurama by the tails. "I was looking for you, actually. I have a job that's perfect for you."_

"_Oh?" Kurama lifted just the inner tips of his eyebrows and tilted his head._

"_I can't act directly—England's mostly out of our jurisdiction—but we still have Shuuichi Minamino registered as a human, so you should be able to travel freely."_

_It sounded like the problem didn't even involve the country's small Buddhist population. What in England would be worth shutting a fox in an airplane for hours?_

_With a sinking feeling, he realized it would probably involve the other major Spirit World interest in Britain: wizards. Nasty creatures, and not particularly interesting; recent generations had forgotten what it was to face the fey. He had a bet going that if the Western equivalent of the Spirit World's barriers came down, the population would be decimated, at least, within the first twelve hours._

_Koenma continued. "It's about a wizard boy, Harry Potter. There's an important prophecy everybody wants him to fulfill, but since the matter only directly concerns humans nobody can intervene. Unfortunately, there's a possibility he'll die before he's even had training as a wizard! He isn't scheduled, but you know how free will can muck these things up. Anyway, he isn't safe with his relatives. I need you to arrange for his relocation; it doesn't matter to where as long as it's a safe place."_

_Kurama nodded languidly, as if absorbing the information. And what will your British counterparts owe you for this favor?_

He'd found Potter's family easily enough, but they seemed to have hidden the boy effectively, which suggested they took the threat to him seriously. That, in addition to the blood wards, should keep him safe from any hostile wizards. Why was supernatural intervention necessary?

He sat through dinner, small talk and a vague discussion of international trade with Walrus & Co., but there was never a hint of Harry Potter, apart from the sense of a fourth human ki somewhere inside. He would have to return while they slept.

- - -

He was no longer immersed in a human mindset when he entered the property that night and it showed in his ki. The wards tingled warningly, but apparently a youkai fox's ki of itself wasn't enough to trigger them, especially when he didn't intend to harm anyone there. Besides, he'd already been invited in, which was significant for a lot of Western magic.

The more physical security was laughable, so Kurama let himself in through the front door. There were three ki signatures upstairs, all degenerate from soft living; the fourth, bright with magical potential, was a few paces before him.

The cupboard under the stairs? It seemed a bit lacking as a hiding place; there weren't even any wards disguising the door or averting attention. On the other hand, wizards could more often detect magic than ki. Perhaps the lack of it was camouflage enough.

Then he opened the door, and bits of reality shuffled like kaleidoscope glass until forming a new picture. The cupboard wasn't a hiding place; it was a bedroom. The boy was not hidden so much as put out of sight.

He lay curled on a cot under a threadbare blanket, much too thin and, if it was Kurama's silent presence making him restless, much too light a sleeper for a human. The scent of gray, weary depression hung about the little room, and Kurama knew the boy was ripe to be taken in hand and molded, with kindness and careful words, into a powerful dark wizard.

'At risk' indeed. If his own relatives were so indifferent to his physical and emotional health….

Humans were so much more fertile than youkai foxes; like most mortal species they reproduced at incredible rates. Perhaps that surplus was why some of them were so cavalier of their young? Sometimes even Kurama, despite all his years of experience as a shapeshifter, didn't understand the other species.

Whatever the root cause, Koenma had been right that the boy couldn't stay with his relatives.

"Relocation; it doesn't matter to where as long as it's a safe place" he had said, but Kurama had just been reminded that some humans couldn't even be trusted to protect a child. It would have to be someone he was certain of, but he didn't personally know many people in the West these days, and fewer humans, and yet fewer wizards. In fact, he didn't know any living wizards.

Koenma would have to scramble to appease the British if the boy ended up in Japan. He would have to justify why it was better for everyone, why the boy was safer…and he would have to do it so effectively that he would convince himself, as well.

Kurama took a good look at the boy. Underweight and gangly, undoubtedly full of issues that only a human could understand, and foreign; he'd need a lot of teaching that a school couldn't provide.

Kurama could teach him a lot of things.

He slowly began to smile.

**End**

- - -

**Epilogue**

It was five days before anyone entered the Dursley house to look for them. One of Vernon's underlings caused a stir when he went knocking door to door in search of a family holding their spare house key, though none of the housewives would admit that the young man's looks factored in their delays in giving him a straight answer.

The old woman who did have the key, one Arabella Figg, insisted on accompanying him to check on the house. They were shocked when the door turned out to be unlocked.

The first thing they saw was little Dudley, kneeling half inside the cupboard under the stairs. The four-year-old beamed at them and waddled over, proudly displaying the spider in his hands. "See my cake? I finded it all by myself!"

Before they could stop him, he had it in his mouth and was swallowing.

The Grunnings employee had to turn away, one hand clasped over his mouth. Arabella pursed her lips, terrified for Harry and not knowing how she would tell Dumbledore that someone had been casting mind-altering curses in the Dursley home.

They found Vernon and Petunia outside, shielded from the neighbors' eyes by the thick hedge. Someone had left the hose running too long, and the couple was wallowing in a mud puddle where once had been a pristine segment of grass.

With stringy hair and ragged clothes, absolutely covered in mud, they both smiled delightedly at their visitors. Vernon chuckled. "Come on, come on, the water's fine!"

There was no sign of Harry Potter.

The Grunnings man dealt with the authorities, who puzzled over the group psychotic break. Arabella dealt with Dumbledore, who brought in a discreet cursebreaker.

No one discovered what was wrong with the Dursleys, as few Westerners had experience with a fox's illusory world, and no amount of scrying found Harry.

Koenma, despite his immortality, made a good attempt at an aneurysm when he learned that Kurama had somehow acquired legal documents declaring Harry Potter to be Shuuichi Minamino's adoptive son.

- - -

_And now dear little children, who may this story read,  
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed: _

_Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,  
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly._

"The Spider and the Fly" by Mary Howitt, 1821.

—Japanese foxes are notorious for their illusions. They enjoy pranks, such as making a man think he's in an elaborate private bath with beautiful women when he's actually in the neighbor's dung heap. This is considered a type of _kami-kakushi_.

They are also known to take the form of a woman (Chinese yin-yang philosophy places foxes as creatures of primarily yin nature, making it more difficult to shift to the primarily yang male human). The fox woman sometimes weds a man and even bears his children, and I wondered if that could be because long-lived beings like youkai foxes might not have the fertility rate a vixen would like.


	4. Mirror, Mirror

—Part of me wants to apologize for being slow to update, but I'm sincerely trying to stop taking responsibility for things beyond my control, as that way leads to frustration leads to depression leads to less writing. (In some ways, learned helplessness has not come naturally.) I've been chronically ill for the past four and a half years, and all the doctors have told me is to make accommodations in my lifestyle and to take pain meds as needed. So while I regret that I don't write more, there's nothing for it. _Shikata ga nai._

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu-Yuu Hakusho or Harry Potter and make no profit from this fanwork.

—ki: see chapter 3

—kinless: note that "wretched" comes from the Old English word for "without kin"

—_douka-shokubutsu_: 同化植物same-change-plant: plant that assimilates/changes to mimic: completely made up

**Mirror, Mirror**

Snape's hand tightened painfully on his shoulder, freezing them just inside the plant nursery, but protest died on Harry's lips when he saw the owner—she looked just like his mum, if his mum had been Asian.

She smiled warmly. "Hello, Severus. It's been a while."

"You—what—where is Schwarzwald?" Harry had never seen Snape so utterly shocked, even when they found out….

The woman shrugged. "You know vampire politics."

_Harry_ didn't.

Snape seemed to collect himself by sheer force of will. "I assume you haven't changed the stock. I require very specifically grown specimens."

Green eyes laughed. "I still carry everything Herr Schwarzwald offered, pure-bred and well fed. But why don't you tell me exactly what you're looking for over tea? It's such a shame we lost contact; I would hate to let this opportunity slip by."

First his mum, then this woman. What did they see in the man?

Snape cast a wary eye about the nursery, lingering over a tree wreathed in black flames. "Everything Schwarzwald offered and more, I see." He didn't look too enthusiastic about the offer of tea.

The woman drifted closer with a whisper of oriental silk robes. "I've a cozy little back room where we can chat, Severus," she said, and there were volumes in the way she murmured Snape's name—written in a language Harry didn't want to know. "And Harry," she turned, "no harm will come to you in the attic, and it's full of interesting things. Why don't you take some biscuits and explore for a while? If you find anything you like, you're welcome to keep it; I've been needing to clear out that debris anyway."

Snape's hand had not left Harry's shoulder. "Is there anything between here and the attic or in the biscuits you will give him that would harm him?"

Harry's stomach knotted.

"No. And I don't wish him harm."

If Snape didn't even trust this woman's biscuits, why would he trust her word?

Snape nodded curtly. "Very well."

Harry soon found himself with a plate of chocolate biscuits in a dim, cluttered attic, the door shutting creakily behind him.

He wasn't sure he wanted to get to know someone in Knockturn Alley who sold so many varieties of plants with teeth, anyway, but..._making no noise and pretending I'm not there._

Somehow this, more than anything, made Snape feel like he really was….

Harry wandered over to a large, ornate mirror. He'd learned from his experience with the Mirror of Erised, but this one didn't seem to be showing anything odd—unless he counted his own reflection.

The strange-familiar face that wasn't his.

He stared at his reflection, and all he could think was that he was glad he didn't have Snape's nose.

He wasn't sure why he didn't; they had determined—though Hermione and Remus were still having a terrific debate about _how_—that his mum had let him keep her features and replaced his real…his biological…all his other features with his dad…James…his dad's.

The person staring back at him looked exactly as unlike James Potter as it had formerly resembled him, and nothing at all like Harry Potter.

Was he still Harry Potter?

He'd had his mum's eyes, and pretty much everything else had been…his dad's, and now it wasn't.

Except, of course, the proper thing to say was that now it _was_.

Which apparently included straight hair, black where there had been cheery red-brown highlights, high cheekbones where he'd had a rounded, open face…and how had he known Snape for so many years without noticing what a ridiculously fine bone structure he had behind that nose?

His skin was absolutely the last straw. He'd never noticed himself noticing, but in the winter, or in summers that the Dursleys were locking him up, it was pale with pink undertones and then bronzed nicely after he'd been out in the sun. Now his latest stint with the Dursleys had turned it a sort of ivory shade, leaning toward sallow, and when he'd finally been liberated he'd spent two hours playing Quidditch and ended up with a nasty burn and Snape had yelled at him about some sort of "sun-stopping" charm.

Harry put his hand to the mirror and watched his counterpart do the same. At least he didn't have Snape's nose. It was weird though, since he didn't have James or Lily's nose either. Hermione had said something about grandparents and recesses and then gone off about some monk who grew a lot of peas, but at least she had seemed certain that there was a reasonable explanation.

In any case, the overall look was enough to have everyone gawking bemusedly, even Snape whom Harry had not thought capable of gawking. No one seemed to know quite how to look at him.

He liked his real…normal…old face better. It had been softer, somehow, friendlier, and he felt more Slytherin or something with this new one. As if his insides should match his outsides.

And…was his reflection wearing a Slytherin badge?

Suddenly his mirror-self grinned widely, displaying a mouth full of fangs, and his eyes turned lambent yellow.

Harry's mouth dropped in shock, but before he could yell or fight, the creature pulled him—_cold shivery-tingle_—through the mirror.

- - -

A burst of magic in the attic heralded the abrupt absence of Harry's ki, and Kurama smirked.

Severus blanched and shakily set down his teacup. "What have you done to him?"

"If you researched deeply enough to figure out how to summon demons, you must have read that we don't break explicit promises."

Severus was still for a moment, and his ki settled slightly.

Of course, Kurama mused, he'd said nothing about what might happen to the boy if he _left_ the attic. "Not harmed" could be interpreted a lot of ways…though he'd probably be fine, hero type that he was. That sort only grew stronger for their adventures, and the _douka-shokubutsu_ Kurama had impressed with his will and personality would see that the youngling didn't get in over his head.

Which didn't prevent him from letting Severus stew a while longer.

"I'm a little confused over your concern, really. How long have you even known of his existence? You didn't check to see whether your hypothetical firstborn existed when you tried to make me that empty promise—it wasn't as though you were a virgin, and accidents happen."

"I thought the boy was _Potter's_—" Old resentment smoldered in his ki.

"And you allowed emotion to blind your otherwise bright, analytical mind," Kurama smiled sunnily, "which I imagine is what got you into trouble in the first place."

Severus winced. "I do appreciate what you did for me."

"You merely regret involving me in the first place?" Kurama kept his voice soft. Neutral.

Ki flared. "It was the Darkest of Arts—!"

"If you'd seen yourself, pale as the moonlight and shivering in it; a desperate, kinless boy poised on manhood…you wouldn't be so shocked at a little demon summoning. It isn't nearly the sin your people make it out to be, anyway, and your reasons were pure."

"I…" Severus gave up and changed the subject. "You looked female, then. Why do you look male now?"

"Harry seemed to think I was a woman," he chuckled, "but that happens often. As to your question…what would have been the point of my taking human form, if it didn't put you at ease? When you summoned me, seeking help, your subconscious was looking for the one person you ever felt loved you enough _to_ help you."

"Lily."

"Precisely. And now, with her enshrined in your mind as the representation of all that was good in your life, you're spoiled for other women."

"What do you want from me?"

"I answered your summons, broke your loyalty bond—your Dark Mark—to the extent possible without killing you. This gave you much more leeway than the inch you'd grasped for yourself; enough that your Master's will no longer had any bearing on your own.

"In short, I returned to you your precious free will…and my payment, your firstborn, will soon be back in your care unharmed, if only because I don't wish to become entangled in a Wizarding prophecy. You know of my kind, of what things we like. What do you want to give me, to ensure that I do not feel slighted in our bargain?"

Severus rested his gaze on Kurama's lips, and the smoldering in his ki wasn't resentment. "Perhaps we might…come to a mutually satisfactory agreement."

**End**

—I think I mentioned in chapter 2, but foxes are said to eat spirit energy. There are countless tales of a fox taking human form in order to take a lover, who weakens and dies within a few weeks. They must be able to control it, though, for the inter-species marriages in other stories.

—What challenges greeted Harry in the mirror world? What was Kurama's response to Severus' proposition? If only my muses would tell me.


	5. Names

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Sequel to Chapter One: **"Kami-Kakushi – Spirited Away"**

—_kami-ningyou_ – 紙人形 "paper doll" – a magic technique in onmyoujutsu 陰陽術 "yin-yang arts": Create a paper image of something, usually a human or animal such as a bird or dog, infuse it with _ki_ and say the magic words to make it temporarily real.

—family registry – _koseki_ – 戸籍 "door (household) record" – a system of citizen registration designed after WWII. Each family has a legal document listing its members, ideally including the head of the house, spouse, and their children. Since Kurama is starting a new family, he has to be removed from his parental _koseki_ and issued his own.

**Names**

_Had he paused to consider the speed of his arrangements to integrate the human boy into his life, Kurama would have been disconcerted. As he had already committed himself, however, he did not hesitate. _

_He divided his last two days in England between the work that had originally brought him to the country and the official paperwork for his new boy, leaving most of the actual childcare to a _kami-ningyou_ in the form of a nanny simulacrum._

_Work went smoothly, but there were documents to be negotiated and signed in the name of his stepfather's company._

"Sayonara, Mr. Minamino." The man's unctuous smile only thinly disguised his condescension—perhaps toward Shuuichi's ethnicity, perhaps toward his age, perhaps toward his beauty. Shuuichi found the rudeness ignorable (the man was a foreigner, after all; they couldn't help their gracelessness), particularly when the finalized agreement was favorable to his own company. Not that even their new associates' best lawyers, examining the paperwork with fine-toothed combs, would discern exactly _how_ favorable for at least the crucial first weeks.

_Without having bothered to note so much as the license plate number of the car where he'd found his boy, Kurama couldn't begin a lineage investigation in the Muggle world._

Kurama resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. Knockturn Alley had never smelled pleasant, being a haven for the dregs of wizarding society and a market for people, mostly unsavory wizards, defying Ministry regulations. Yet in the four or five centuries since his last visit the stench had somehow managed to _worsen!_ Hopefully the parchment shop would be sanitary.

_A name couldn't be legally changed until the original one was known, even in the Muggle world._

At the abrupt appearance and disappearance of a foul scent, Kurama turned his gaze from the blood drop on the parchment to the blood's donor and breathed shallowly through his mouth. Even factoring in the malnourishment, the boy couldn't be much more than two years of age. It had taken Kurama approximately seventeen months from his rebirth for his body to be consistently capable of controlling its bladder and bowel movements, and his research had shown that humans could require up to three years, sometimes more, to gain the ability. Apparently they didn't know it instinctively; between his book on conventional baby wizard care and the internet Kurama would have to devise a teaching method.

At least his boy had figured out how to magic away his waste, though the emotional repercussions of the neglect that had necessitated that breakthrough would no doubt be lingering and resistant to correction.

The boy did not speak, he did not make his needs known, he was largely indifferent to his surroundings…Kurama had been the same around that age for vastly different reasons, and was finally learning why his human parents had taken him to so many doctors. He'd not known (to be honest, in those years he hadn't cared) what was typical of a human child's development until he'd been able to observe his "peers" in preschool.

Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention back to the scroll, where the drop of blood had spiderwebbed outward to form the names of eight generations of two human lines, culminating in a single heir. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Harry James Potter," Kurama murmured. The boy cooed softly.

_Fortunately, the Muggle paperwork was easily settled. Human laws no longer allowed for a traditional fostering, but there were ways around that._

"One could make a case for the Dursleys as a Potter branch family by marriage. If the boy wants to reestablish contact, British law and wizarding precedence should allow it, so I want to keep that option open," Kurama elaborated. "For now, however, I would prefer to sever all ties to the ordinary human relatives just as in a regular adoption."

Taki nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, milord! An initial proposal for the exalted adoption contract will be in milord's august inbox before this humble servant's lowly household greets the dawn! Furthermore, an appropriate city hall employee as already been approached about creating milord's new honorable family registry! This humble one has been most honored!"

"Your effort is acknowledged."

_The only wizarding paperwork that couldn't be settled discretely could be handled by goblin bankers._

Hopgarth had made an art of aloof respect, and Kurama wondered if it was appreciated by the humans who made up the majority of his clientele. On the other hand, weren't they about due for another goblin-wizard war?

The elderly goblin tapped straight Kurama's copy of the papers and handed them across the desk. "Everything seems to be in order, master fox. Our records updated themselves the moment you traded for your ward." He grinned suddenly, baring sharp teeth. "And if I may say so, it's been a long time since our bank saw such a neat exchange. Congratulations on your acquisition."

Kurama demurely accepted.

"…Master goblin, if I might make a request apart from our transaction," he drew a sack of gold from his sleeve pocket and allowed it to clink loudly onto the desk, "I would know of any attempts to access information concerning my identity or personal business dealings, or those of my ward."

The goblin took only three pieces of gold and pushed the sack back to Kurama. He smiled again, even more toothily. "We at Gringotts value the privacy of our customers."

Kurama complemented himself on deciding to approach the goblins as a fox rather than as a human magic user.

_The three forms of transportation he considered each had its advantages and drawbacks. He was already listed on an airplane route on the company dime, but a long journey in business class with a human infant not yet out of diapers was less than appealing. He could send _kami-ningyou_ in Harry and his images to sort out the official documentation of their trip._

_There were portals to make the journey instantaneous, but in recent centuries they had begun to cost much more than they were worth. Kurama further disliked them because he was sensitive to differences in Earth's regional energies. Such an abrupt shift from London's energy pattern to Tokyo's would leave him ill for hours, if not days. It was for the same reason that weaker foxes in the Human World rarely left their territories._

_The third option was Rocbus, a corporation that offered luxury coaches borne by giant eagles, each of which sat twenty to thirty human-sized people._

"…and thank you for choosing Rocbus Air." The message was repeated in an Old Gaelic dialect understood by most fey, Standard Japanese and Upper Makai Common before the intercom clicked off.

The felinoid woman to Kurama's left wrinkled her nose as she gestured over the flight attendant who was making her last round before takeoff. "We weren't warned we might have to share the coach with _that_ sort," she growled. "Don't you have separate flights for humans?"

The attendant, her feathers puffing with nervousness, smelled as though she'd rather be anywhere else. She eyed the drowsing child in Kurama's lap, apologized to the woman with as deep a bow as space would permit, and looked back at the child.

"There's nothing in the policy against pets," Kurama said irritably. "I've emptied its bowels and sedated it for the duration of this journey, and I'd be surprised if you can smell its musk through all the pheromone enhancers you're wearing."

The felinoid bristled, Kurama bared a hint of fang and flashed fox-gold eyes, and the matter was settled. During the in-flight meal, the attendant presented them each with an extra serving of bloodwine-roasted mice.

_Once back in Japan, Kurama could no longer put off telling Mother of his new son._

- - -

—So, between them, how many ways were Harry and Kurama named in this story? (I haven't counted, myself, but it struck me halfway through the story that this had become a theme.)

—Inspiration for the cat woman came from a quote in History of Medicine when we covered segregation in American tuberculosis sanatoria. The woman just sounded so normal and reasonable, as if her xenophobia were something to be taken for granted.


	6. On Vulpine Capriciousness

—I like the "KamiKakushi: Spirited Away" storyline, but it's fighting me right now. The muse's attention span is partly why _The Fox and the Wizard_ is a collection of oneshots, anyway.

Disclaimer: see first chapter.

—Kurama is more than old enough to have passed on to wherever foxes go when they've reached their full potential in the demon-human-spirit worlds. That he's still hanging around as a four or five tail may be deliberate, meaning he enjoys the lifestyle.

He never seems to go all-out in a fight. Part of it is his habit of keeping as many cards up his sleeves as he can, but maybe it's also partially because he's been in so many fights that he gets bored in low-key ones and doesn't take them seriously, and maybe partially because his life would be boring if he were always safely in control of it. I think he genuinely likes ending up in weird situations, and that's what keeps him interested in this existence.

**On Vulpine Capriciousness and the Exigencies of Life**

A breeze tickled through him, chilling his bones and ruffling his fur.

Fur?

Awareness snapped into place. He was corporeal enough to feel the prickling of the grass on which he lay, though not substantial enough for his weight to bend a single blade. He was corporeal enough to ache all over, to stretch his stiff—but mercifully intact—legs and tails, and to inhale the scents of greenery, pavement and human suburbia.

The local energy patterns were unfamiliar. The interplay of yin-ki and yang-ki—shaped by sunlight and air currents, topography and star positions, flora and fauna—did not even feel Japanese. Having to adjust to a new ki-atmosphere didn't help his headache, especially while he was more energy-being than solid.

He checked that there were no bright-loud ki signatures in his vicinity, the sort that would indicate high enough power or sentience to pose a threat. Then he molded his own internal ki into the pattern of a small, single-tailed, dull-furred mortal fox and shoved enough spirit-ki, youki, into the pattern to produce matter. Physical sensation sharpened: sore muscles protested gravity, pain worsened, scents strengthened, and it became obvious just how much grime was matting his fur. Simultaneously, spiritual sensations dulled: the foreign ki-atmosphere jangled like an obnoxious seashell wind chime rather than a fleet of jackhammers.

Kurama stretched gingerly and stood. Although the neighborhood plants were in the early stages of rousing to greet the sun, the sky was still quite dark; he could probably get away with following the sidewalk. He set off at a leisurely walk, letting muscles warm and loosen at their own pace.

When he got home he was going to call in sick to work, then find that brat and feed her to a flesh-eating bush.

The discomfort and inconvenience served him right for underestimating his opponent. A young female of indeterminate species, mucking about in his town without so much as a by-your-leave and without the youki to back her arrogance, who turned out to have a talent for portals. Portals that she could form quickly enough to use for teleportation—he _hated_ teleporters—and portals she could shove him through as soon as she'd landed enough hits to slow his reaction time. Nasty, ki-eating portals that destabilized his hold on his human form and spat him out in unfamiliar foreign lands.

The license plates he walked past used Latin characters, like most of the world. The steering wheels were on the right side, which eliminated…too few countries. The vegetable portion of the ecosystem was preparing for winter dormancy, so he was still in the northern hemisphere and distant from the equator.

The ears-perking, heady scent of human blood wards suddenly hit him and he froze. Two houses down, across the street…how had it taken him so long to notice? Human magic wasn't usually that subtle. Intrigued, he listened for automobiles and then crossed the street, approaching at a cautious trot.

As he adjusted to the scent of the blood wards, he noticed the scent of water and of unwashed human male-child. His eyes and ears confirmed that a boy almost too small to handle the hose was watering flowers.

The wards made his fur bristle but passed him, so Kurama slunk into the bushes lining the yard. His fur itched unbearably now that he was in sight of a means to wash out the muck.

He debated. The boy was ill-fed, poorly dressed and bruised; a few centuries ago Kurama would have assumed him to be a serf. That sort, consigned to endless large and petty cruelties with no hope of escape, often embraced what small revenges they could find—such as by tormenting anything lesser than they. Unfortunately, Kurama was tired and injured and short on options. His teeth itched at the thought, but he was mature enough to trade the urge to bite for the chance to be clean. As long as the human was not _too_ insufferable….

He walked to the boy's side and yipped, _"look at me."_ The boy jerked and half-turned, eyes wide. Then he seemed content to stare dumbly, so Kurama trotted into the spray from the loosely-held hose. The boy held still for a moment longer, then seemed to catch on.

It was awkward, but the boy used the fingers of his right hand to help scrub Kurama's fur while he held the hose in his left. "Please don't bite me…I'm just trying to help…please don't bite me…if you stick around after this I might be able to bring you some scraps from breakfast…." As human voices went, it wasn't a bad one underneath that grating cringe.

From so close, the boy's ki smelled of strong will underneath grudging submissiveness. It was intriguing.

And there was still the mystery of the blood wards.

Then _oooh_ the boy endeared himself to Kurama forever by scratching that spot behind his ear.

- - -

Four years later, Kurama plotted how he would continue to call his human family regularly with a mobile phone that was designed to withstand youki, not wizardry, while living in a magical castle among people who were meant to mistake him for a mortal beast.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter pulled out his bigger-inside-than-outside and notice-me-not charmed trunk and rummaged through his potions ingredients and magic books and other contraband. He dug out a quill and inkwell and, after some searching—he really needed to visit the town's Ye Magick Shoppe again, however grating its Muggle-dominated atmosphere—a clean sheet of parchment. He responded to his Hogwarts letter with polite acceptance and a request for an exemption from the pet species restrictions, based on the traditional provision for already-bonded familiars.

**End**

—I think what helps me best is to hear how others are interpreting what I've written. What just happened? What did you like about the story or writing style? What did you dislike? Is anyone as fascinated with topics in Chinese philosophy like ki (qi) as I am?

On a related note, is anyone interested in beta-ing? I can't promise to be a good listener, but I love advice!


	7. Expectations

Disclaimer: see first chapter

—Thanks to **Momma Lici** for the beta! Remaining issues are, of course, my own.

**Expectations**

Severus Snape was not having a good day. Sitting at the teachers' table, waiting for the first years to be escorted inside, he stewed in his foul mood.

This was not as common as popularly believed. He could go whole summers without working himself into worse than moderate irritation—as when a certain retailer attempted to sell him substandard potions ingredients.

Even when sorely provoked, Severus could usually restrain his temper. He might have inherited poor anger management skills from his father, but knowing that about himself was the key to overcoming it. And above all, a level head was vital for Occlumency.

Still, there were a few things that challenged Severus's self-control. It was always difficult, for example, for him to transition from the quiet, peaceful solitude of his potions work at Spinner's End to the bright, noisy chaos of the first week of school. Even after Hogwarts settled into routine, the job was unpleasant; Severus detested people, especially children, and was ill-suited to hold their hands through their forays into his Art.

What was guaranteed to upset his equilibrium, however, was anything that prodded the sore spots left over from his school years. In other words, anything to do with James Potter or his contemptible little gang, werewolves, or Lily Evans. Lily Potter. Damn the man—everything went back to him.

And now Potter's son was to begin at Hogwarts, and the always nigh-intolerable atmosphere would deteriorate further with Potter Jr. running about. James Potter's ego had filled the castle, merely because he'd been a spoiled only child and teachers' pet. Severus couldn't imagine how much worse Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, would be. The boy had already demanded special permission for an unusual pet, claiming it to be a familiar! As if the school had the resources to cater to any sort of animal, simply because a child thought himself more deserving than his peers. But of course, anything for Albus's golden boy.

And here came the first years, finally.

Tiny, wide-eyed, snot-nosed brats incapable of comprehending adult rationality.

There was Draco Malfoy, his pale, impeccably styled hair immediately visible in the crowd. In fact, Severus could pick out several children who would most likely go to his House. It weighted heavily on him that there was so little he could do to turn them from the paths their parents had laid out for them—

Wait a minute. There, beside Draco—messy hair, glasses…a silver fox at his feet. Severus's gut clenched. He wasn't ready for this.

The boy looked up—with Lily's eyes; why in Merlin's name hadn't anyone warned him—and met Severus's stare. Coolly. Blank-faced. He bowed his head politely to Severus and returned to his apparently civil conversation with Draco.

In a rare moment of prescience, Severus's chest tightened with foreboding.

He sat through the Sorting in a daze, until Minerva called, "Potter, Harry," and the anticipation in the Great Hall reached a fevered pitch.

Potter walked calmly to the front, the fox trotting at his side. He sat with what Severus was coming to suspect was habitually excellent posture.

James Potter had only bothered with good posture when trying to sweet-talk his way out of trouble, and somehow this made the foreboding worse.

As Potter's Sorting dragged on, whispers started. Everyone knew the Boy-Who-Lived was a shoo-in for Gryffindor—

"SLYTHERIN!"

—Except, apparently, the Sorting Hat.

Severus Snape was having an exceedingly bad day.

**End**

—My favorite thing about reading online, aside from all the free-but-good material, is being able to apply the **Right Click**, **Search** function to unfamiliar words and references (such as to actors I'd never heard of). Google and Wikipedia are the wonders of the decade.

—I finally saw _Labyrinth_! It's mind-bogglingly Eighties, but I recommend it to anyone who likes Fey who play by the rules (though never fairly). Also, the Anniversary Edition has a Japanese audio track. And while I'm on this vein, if you like _YYH_ and _Labyrinth_, I highly recommend _Onmyoji I _and _II_.


	8. Ie

Disclaimer: see first chapter

_Kami-Kakushi / Spirited Away _storyline: Chapters 1, 5, and here.

—_ie, ke_ – 家 – "house", "household", "family" – can mean anything from the physical dwelling place to the family line. "My _house_ is on that hill," "the Brown_s_" (Brown-_ke_), "the ancient and noble _House_ of Black," etc. The _ie_ traditionally includes everyone from the mass of ancestors whose names have been forgotten (traced back to the sun goddess Amaterasu-oomikami, the Heavenly Shining Great Goddess), to the unborn descendants of the line. The _ie_ supercedes the individual, so for example shame on one member is shame on all, and the heir must produce an heir regardless of his or her preferred lifestyle or love (conflicts of house obligations, social hierarchy and individual desires were great sources of bloody dramas, back in the day).

—8,000,000 kami – _yaoyorozu no kami_ – 八百万の神 – "the myriad kami"

—_ningen-gokko_ – 人間ごっこ – "playing human." _Gokko_ is used for imitation games, make-believe, like "playing house" or "playing pirates".

—_amae_ – 甘え – psychiatrist Takeo Doi translated this as "passive love" or "dependence," which is returned with indulgence. _Amae_ is said to begin with an infant's dependence on its mother (who is very attentive and prefers to anticipate rather than react to its needs; "Let's eat our peas now", "I'm enjoying this. Aren't you enjoying this? We're enjoying this!) (also consider the significance of "attachment" in psychology). Azuma describes the logical sequence "indulgence-dependence-identification-controllability" in which "The feeling of interdependence helps the child assimilate the hopes and values of the parents, thus enhancing the child's educability". In other words, as the mother acts empathetically toward the child, it comes to empathize with her and absorb her knowledge and opinions, and so learn to empathize with others and absorb their perspectives, and therefore want what they want, and so become a good, agreeable member of society. That's the ideal. (Even more so than he would have been in a Western, individualist culture, Kurama must have been a very frustrating, disappointing son in his reluctance to return Shiori's affection as an infant.)

**Ie – Home, Family **(sequel to Chapters 1 & 5)

"Hello, Mother. How are you?"

…

"Yes, very well, thank you. And my trip went smoothly. I'd heard it rains a lot in Britain, but I had mostly sunny days. How has the weather been where you are?"

…

"That's a lot of moisture for this time of year, isn't it…I suppose at least the garden is happy."

…

Cloth rustled to the right of Kurama's sitting cushion, drawing his gaze to the mound of blankets lying on the tatami mats. Harry was beginning to stir a little sooner than expected. The drugs that had kept him quiet on the way to Japan weren't the sort that a human overcame quickly, and Kurama made a mental note to research Wizard metabolisms.

…

"Yes, I'll be able to come over tomorrow just as we planned. And I'll bring your souvenir. I had a hard time picking it out, there were so many interesting knick-knacks in the shops—" and none of them good enough for Mother "—but I found something in a little place out of the way. Also…there's something I'd like to talk to you about face to face. Don't worry, it's a good thing…you could say I found a special souvenir of my own."

…

"Yes, yes, but you'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

…

"All right. Take care; I'll see you soon."

Kurama closed his mobile phone, not tensing against the fur-prickling sense of eyes on him. Harry's gaze was groggily flicking about his new surroundings, but repeatedly lingered on Kurama. Although the boy had likely never seen a traditional Japanese room before, the newly familiar adult was apparently more interesting. The boy had his priorities straight.

Kurama looked around himself, trying to see the tatami room with a young foreigner's eyes. His gaze rested on the _kamidana_, the shelf that should have been dedicated to Amaterasu, the ancestress of all Japanese, as well as to any particular tutelary deities of his family line. It was instead dedicated to the Lady, Mother of all foxes, and to Inari, who was Her dearest friend and ally among the eight million kami.

"My home isn't conventional," Kurama told Harry, who watched him intently, as if understanding the words. "Not for a Muggle and not for a magic user, British or Japanese. I may be playing _ningen-gokko_, but I'm not human and I don't live perfectly like one."

He let out his breath and picked up the boy, blankets and all. Harry went stiff in his arms, but soon decided he liked being held. That process was shorter each time Kurama initiated it, which was an excellent sign of the boy adapting to his new circumstances.

Far past the point of easily extracting himself from the situation, Kurama bit the metaphorical bullet and finalized it. "Conventional or not…you are welcome in my home, to my protection, food, clothing, shelter, affection and guidance. I will raise you to be a good Man, in accordance with my duties as your adoptive father."

As oaths went, it was rudimentary. Kurama knew how inappropriate he was as the boy's caregiver…but a fox has his own sense of honor. Besides, he surely knew enough about humans to raise a child as one.

"And I know Mother will love you as if you were her grandson by blood," he murmured.

Harry's ki shifted in hunger and his face puckered. Kurama rose to prepare a toddler-appropriate meal. He should still have those avocado seeds…how much fruit could he induce a single plant to bear? Perhaps he would pot one and leave it full grown, if Harry liked the fruit's taste.

- - -

Shiori glanced at her watch. It was only five minutes until the time she had agreed to meet her son and there was still no sign of him. Shuuichi liked to be early when he was meeting people; not excessively so, but enough that he tended to be the first to arrive.

As she looked up, a long-haired man turned his bicycle into the park. Her first thought was _"There's Shuuichi…but when did he get a new bike?"_—and then the child-seat registered.

Her mind stayed blank as Shuuichi extracted a foreign-pale toddler from the bike and carried it to her bench.

"Good morning!" Shuuichi smiled as though everything were perfectly normal.

Shiori returned the smile reflexively. "Good morning." She turned to the child. "Good morning!"

Shuuichi's smile turned as smug as he'd ever allow her to see. "This is Harii Pottaa. It's something of a long story, but I won't beat around the bush: I've adopted him."

"I see. Congratulations," Shiori said. Distantly, she wondered if she would be able to carry the whole conversation by reflex.

"Thanks." Shuuichi ducked his head sheepishly, but there was a grimness about his mouth. "I know it's sudden….When I was in England, I happened across a family that was overindulging their son at the same time as they were, well, neglecting their nephew. They genuinely didn't want Harii…so I took him off their hands. He had no other relatives."

"I see." This was obviously a gross simplification, but Shiori decided that she wasn't interested in the details, especially those concerning how Shuuichi had expedited the adoption process. Instead, she held out her arms to be given—_oh Buddha, Kami-sama_—her grandson.

_And no daughter-in-law in sight,_ she mused wryly.

The child in her arms was too light when he should have still been round with baby fat, and held himself stiffly. Shiori met his solemn green eyes, and flashed back to her son at that age—but no. The lack of connection was the same, but this child…this child had human feelings beneath the wariness.

Slowly, Harii relaxed against her, eyes drifting shut. The warm weight of an infant in her arms, trusting her, kindled a warmth in her heart. Shuuichi watched, attentive to her reaction, and smiled at her. Shiori smiled back.

They sat quietly in the park until lunchtime. Shuuichi had always loved parks and gardens, and Shiori enjoyed how her son seemed to find a measure of peace in them. She gazed down at her grandson and, as she had long practiced, did not ask any questions of her son.

**tbc**


End file.
